Divided
by Midnight Unicorn
Summary: His surgery didn't go as well as hoped for and now he doesn't know what to do.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Divided  
By: Midnight Unicorn**

**I've only seen the mini-series once, so forgive my mistakes. I haven't got a really firm grasp of any of the characters, so feel free to disagree with my portrayals, just don't expect me to change things. There will be both het and slash scenes later, though I don't know how graphic. I'll up the rating if I have to. Reviews are loved.**

Glitch was a man in a dilemma. Now, he'd been in undesirable situations before, not the least of which was the removal of half his brain, but this was unique. It would have been easier if it were a life-or-death scenario as he had encountered frequently just a few weeks before, believe it or not, because then at least there are only two outcomes. In this particular case the variety of options was…let's say, troubling.

To be clear, Glitch was a man of two minds. Not in the philosophical sense; literally. Said removed half of brain has been reinstated, only the surgery didn't go quite as hoped for. Each hemisphere had been taxed in different ways and experienced different things; the memories stored no longer quite lined up. One mind was Ambrose, reserved, calculating and analytical, clever and realistic. The other was, well, was Glitch, with flighty attention and a carefree, loose-jointed attitude, moving from one moment to the next with a hope for something better.

But that's not even the real problem. The dilemma stems from the metaphysical heart which Ambrose tries to exclude from his decision-making process and was the only thing Glitch could really rely on but now confused him so thoroughly.

"D.G. would know what to do," Glitch sighed forlornly, leaning his elbows on his knees and his chin in his palms as he gazed at the mirror.

"I doubt it," replied his reflection. Logically, both halves knew the reflection was no different from the body, but it was easier to accept the conjecture of his mind in the subtle differences between them. "She's still just a girl."

"You're not offering any answers," Glitch pointed out blithely. "Maybe…no."

"No," Ambrose agreed without the need for vocalization. Both halves shied away from the idea of allowing Raw into their minds. The poor Viewer became distressed within minutes of picking up on Glitch and Ambrose's inner conflicts that had nothing to do with something so dicey as the heart. "I still don't see why you insist something must be done. All parties concerned are better of not knowing. It would change the dynamics of you relationships with everyone—"

"You're so afraid of change," Glitch burst out, jumping to his feet and turning around so he couldn't look at himself any longer. "You're making _me_ scared! I wasn't half so cowardly when I was only myself in my head."

"Only yourself?" Ambrose repeated scornfully. "I was born to this body, you twit. By all rights, you should have been reabsorbed into my memories as an unwanted portion of my life."

"It was my life, too," Glitch retorted. "My life, my friends, for ten annuals. I'm not going to—"

"Arguing with yourself again, Ambrose?" the amused voice of Azkadellia startled him, each word rolling off her tongue like a caress.

"It's Glitch—Ambrose—Glitch." he replied in a sharp contrast of aborted vowels and abrupt lifts, bowing automatically as he spoke. "Sorry; sometimes I confuse myself."

"That's all right. Is there anything I can do to help?" Despite the self-assured manner she lived and breathed in, she was desperate to please everyone she could, fighting to prove she was different now.

"No, it's—well, I mean I can't really…" Ambrose was silent now and that was more disconcerting than his constant subliminal criticism. "Say, that is…I'm sorry, did you need something princess?" he bowed respectfully. Wait, hadn't he already bowed…?

Azkadellia smiled, seemingly unperturbed. "Not at all. I was concerned for you."

"Oh," he smiled with a childish lack of guile that came naturally to him. "Well, I'm okay. How are you? Are you allowed to leave the Island yet?" He immediately knew he should have put his foot in his mouth.

Her lovely face tensed briefly but the small curve remained in her red lips, telling him the slip was forgiven. "Not yet, but it's all right. I like it here."

"Yes, me too. It's nice. Cold, though," he added absently.

"It does get cold," she agreed quietly and for a moment they were silent, lost in their thoughts. "Oh, by the way, I heard Wyatt Kain is returning soon, and his son Jeb for the Longnight feast."

"Really?" His face lit up with happiness. "We'll all be together again, how wonderful! I wonder if D.G. knows. I must tell her…" And he was gone, leaving Azkadellia behind without a second thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Divided  
By: Midnight Unicorn**

**Argh, I completely forgot to put a disclaimer on chapter one. No one said anything? Well, I don't own Tin Man, SciFi or anything of the like. I started rambling at the end because I forgot where I was going, but I think I still got the point across fairly well. Enjoy and review, s'il vous plait.**

Azkadellia had a problem. She had had many problems in her life, some comparatively far worse, such as sharing her body and mind with an evil witch. That particular mishap would probably haunt her forever but this issue she had now was almost equally as old.

She was sure, however, that there was no satisfactory way to conclude the matter. The one most unhappy would probably be her. For a moment her pride reared up with the desire to satisfy her pleasures, but she stomped on it angrily. Pride was a vice of the wicked, which she most determinedly was not. She tried to convince herself it was so, but she couldn't forget a single thing she'd done and how she wasn't sorry for a one of them and—when she didn't catch herself—she was angry that she had to feel guilty now.

D.G. holds nothing against her, and she has actually become closer to her father, possibly because she does nothing all day but paint and draw and sculpt. There is distance between her and her mother she doesn't like to think about but she reminds herself it has only been a couple of months and some physical wounds take longer than that to heal.

But none of them would Azkadellia turn to for help with this one problem. She felt she must sort it out herself, though there wasn't much sorting to do; she knew the best course of action was to do nothing, but that had never been her style.

She watched the flick of emotions across Glitch's face, fighting with himself and trying to share his attention with her. Ambrose had changed so much since she'd extracted half his brain. His black hair that had always been combed and curled neatly at the ends had lost its gloss and looked like it regularly defeated brushes. Despite his new clothes there was an air of disarray to him, of buttons askew, cuffs unevenly rolled and shirt un-tucked. He'd always seemed put-together, even in his absent-minded moments of brilliance and focus.

And at the mention of Wyatt Kain it was purely Glitch on the ageless face, happy and careless, as he dashed off without considering that D.G. was probably the first to know.

She felt abandoned and that feeling was not so easy to suppress as pride. There used to be a connection between her and Ambrose, at least she'd thought so; he'd been such a good teacher. But now the bond was with D.G. although it wasn't the same, she knew that, but it still hurt. Azkadellia had too few people to rely on she felt the loss of each one keenly.

But Ambrose wasn't a loss she was willing to accept. She had no right but she _wouldn't_.

Azkadellia turned and marched out of Glitch's room to return to her own where she brooded and contemplated.

It was strange to be in her own head but have no one to consult and talk to. There was no question the witch's influence was evil, but she was accustomed to having someone tell her how to go about doing what she desired.

And that wasn't even the problem.


End file.
